


no. 34.

by red__moon



Series: brief inquiries. [7]
Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Neighbors, One Shot, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red__moon/pseuds/red__moon
Summary: 'We live in the same block of flats but haven’t ever talked. One Sunday morning we were both doing the walk of shame, and had to stand in the lift together...'‘What are you waiting for?’‘For you to beg me.'
Relationships: Matthew Healy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: brief inquiries. [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925500
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	no. 34.

As I step into the lift of my building, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored back wall. Not bad, considering I feel a bit like a corpse someone’s dug up and reanimated, though a decent proportion of my mascara has transferred to my undereyes and my lips are woefully dry. And all for what? An evening of Will grunting on top of me and rubbing clumsily at my clit like he’s Bear Grylls with a flint and I’m a wet rock? Waste of my fucking time. I make a silent vow to myself to have a little more self-respect and not reply the next time he texts - no matter how touch-starved I might be. I’d rather not be touched at all than suffer that indignity again.

Just as the doors begin to close, a voice echoes ‘Aw, shit-’ and I catch them with my hand, reflexively obstructing the sensors, just because I’m a good citizen like that. The man that squeezes through them and flashes a grateful smile is dishevelled, but in a way that I suspect is purposeful. He presses the button for the floor above mine, and proceeds to sling his jacket over his shoulder and lean against the rail, catching his breath.

‘Thanks,’ he says, upgrading the smile to a disarming grin. 

‘No worries,’ I mumble. An attack of self-consciousness hits as I register just how beautiful he is - all tousled curls and rumpled clothes, a tie loosened around his neck and a just-been-fucked pink tinge to his cheeks and lips. If only we could all look so good on the walk of shame. It must be quite obvious to him too that I’ve had one of those nights, since there’s no justifying this jacket for daywear, and that’s before you factor in my slept-in makeup.

 _Once I get in, I’m going straight for the shower_ , I mentally plan… _then I’m making a fucking strong coffee, and then will do absolutely nothing productive for at least four hours_. My neck aches from sleeping funny; I rub it absent-mindedly and exhale with a sigh.

‘That bad?’

He’s watching me. I thrust my hands in my pockets again, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. ‘What?’

‘Last night. Was it rough?’

‘Oh… yeah,’ I reply. ‘Got a few regrets.’

‘Huh,’ he nods, crossing and uncrossing his legs. ‘Yeah. Me too.’

I register some disbelief at this - he doesn’t _look_ like he’s had such a terrible time, but who knows who the lucky partner has been? The light on the floor indicator is creeping upwards. I don’t want it to just be a passing acquaintance, I realise, so it’s time to be nosy. ‘How so?’

‘Um… it was my ex. Just a poor decision.’

I smile sympathetically. ‘At least you’re invested on some level. I get the feeling I’m just this guy’s Friday night entertainment.’

‘And he’s not yours?’ He raises one eyebrow mockingly, and we both know the joke is on Will. I like this guy. 

‘Not really, no.’ With a _‘ping’_ , the door slides open, and I reluctantly step out into my corridor. He holds his hand over the sensor this time, stepping to the edge of the lift.

‘I’m Matty. Number thirty four.’

‘Nice to meet you, Matty number thirty four,’ I hear myself say, and it’s a flirtation I can only explain away by the delirium of sleep deprivation, some automatic response that makes me walk away abruptly as I fish for my keys in the pocket of my jacket. _Real fucking smooth mate, well done_ , I chastise myself, desperate to just get inside and freshen up. But he laughs to himself - I hear it faintly as the doors slide closed again, and he’s gone.

***

It’s almost exactly a week later that he catches me again. Will drops me off on the kerb, and as I get out of the car, I see him - Matty - putting the rubbish out, a gently smoking cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. We clock each other, and I turn to make sure Will has driven off before I pause by the door.

‘Hey,’ he smirks, and I know what he’s thinking.

‘Can I bum a smoke off you?’

‘You in desperate need then?’ He asks, but that’s not really the question, so I answer the one he’s covertly asking.

‘I had nothing better to do, and he pays for dinner,’ I say tiredly, watching Matty light another cigarette in his mouth before passing it to me in a distinctly suggestive move.

‘Should’ve given me a call,’ he quips cheekily, and my eyebrows fly up.

‘I don’t have your number.’

‘Ring my doorbell then. You remember?’

‘Matty number thirty four,’ I repeat, my hand still resting on the door without pushing it open. We’re both dithering now, avoiding going up. ‘So are you busy this weekend?’

‘Not at all, love.’ _Oh_ , I think, _now that’s a come-on._ He probably thinks he can do better than Will. And in all honesty, he probably can, by the look of him. He looks more relaxed this time, in a plain t-shirt and blue jeans worn soft and slightly frayed at the hems. My gaze is drawn to his hands as he brings the cigarette to his lips again; his fingers and wrists are slender and capable.

‘Alright then,’ I say slowly, and the eye contact lingers until we’re both about to laugh. I push the door open, turning away from him again, but I steal a glance back, and he’s still looking, fidgeting with his lighter in his hands.

***

It’s not a risky move, I tell myself that evening. The subliminal messaging was clear enough. I’ve brought a bottle of wine anyway, just to be a good guest.

I ring his doorbell with as much confidence as I can muster. I’ve employed only the subtlest effort, looking as fresh and pretty as possible for a Saturday evening in my own apartment block. Matty’s face when he opens the door tells me I’ve made a good call, his eyes lighting up with pleasure at seeing me.

‘I thought this would be the best use of my Saturday?’ I suggest, holding the bottle aloft.

‘I’m glad you did.’ He opens the door wider to let me step in, and pushes his hair back from his face. It’s the first time he appears flustered. ‘I’ll grab some glasses.’

‘Thanks.’ It’s interesting to me how his home is a parallel of mine, all laid out the same and yet adorned in such a different way, and I tell him so as he pours out the wine.

‘I know… it can be quite eerie, can’t it? I like it though. I bet your place is far neater than mine.’

‘No way,’ I laugh. ‘I’ve hoarded so much crap.’ I take the glass from him, and have a sip. ‘I can’t believe I haven’t bumped into you before.’

‘Probably because I’m only here a few times a year,’ he replies nonchalantly, drinking from his own glass and twirling the stem between his fingers.

‘Oh? Why’s that?’

‘I come up to see family and friends, and it’s nice to have my own place when I’m here. Also stops me from crashing with my ex, though as you know, it still doesn’t stop me from making that mistake entirely.’

He tells me about his life, and I’m taken aback; it’s not what I expected. But neither does it change things. If anything, it makes this easier. I won’t have to worry about bumping into him at many awkward, inopportune moments. There’s still a hint of melancholy though, that his presence is a rarity. I’m growing to enjoy it more and more, and I feel quite lucky, in that respect, to have crossed his path on one of his visits home.

We sit at opposite ends of his sofa, both sitting with our knees up and skewed sideways, facing each other. The body language is unmistakable. Matty is devilishly funny, and gratifyingly, I can make him laugh too, his whole face creasing in mirth as he slaps his leg. We both have quite dry senses of humour. At one moment he leaps up to re-enact an anecdote, and I lean back into the cushions, watching as he demonstrates exactly how he fell off a drum riser.

‘It’s still kinda fucked up… here, feel,’ he gestures towards me, and I get up, letting him grab my hand and place it on his shoulder blade. ‘See? I have to go to physio every month, it’s a bloody nightmare.’ I feel the stiffness underneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt, but I feel his body heat too, and as I rest two hands on top of his shoulders and squeeze lightly, he emits a contented sigh. ‘That’s good. Are you trained or something?’

‘Nah, just picked up some tips from one of my mates. She teaches some niche form of yoga, but apparently it’s all part and parcel.’

‘Oh yeah? I like that. I’m too impatient for yoga, but it does make you flexible, doesn’t it?’

‘Very,’ I reply sagely, but he turns his head slightly, and he’s smirking. It’s as good a chance as any, so I decide to run with it. ‘I can do that thing, can’t remember what it’s called… but when you lean over backwards and balance on your hands?’

‘A bridge?’

‘Probably. It comes in handy though.’ I pick up the glass of wine and take a sip, as my other hand moves to the base of his neck and my fingers move in tiny circles there. ‘You don’t feel stiff when you get up in the mornings.’

‘Amazing, I could do with not feeling like such a fucking old man.’

I snort at this. ‘Fuck off, how old even are you?’

‘Twenty nine,’ he replies sheepishly. ‘You?’

‘Twenty five.’ 

Matty tips his head to one side suddenly, inhaling sharply. ‘Ah, holy shit… that’s a good spot. You _are_ talented.’

‘I try.’ I shuffle a little closer. He smells seriously good, and I feel like a creep for noticing, but he’s enjoying the proximity too I think, and I’m glad I sprayed a bit of perfume before I walked out the door.

‘Will you let me return the favour?’

‘If you think you can do the job.’ My synapses feel like they’re firing at double speed as he locks eye contact with me again. ‘Can you?’

‘Better than that prick in the Lexus.’ He turns to face me now, forcing my hand to drop, and although he isn’t touching me, he’s barely three inches away, from head to toe. ‘He looked a bit useless, if you ask me.’

‘I didn’t,’ I grin, ‘but yeah, he is. As a matter of fact…’ - _do I dare? Yes, I think, I do -_ ‘I haven’t been properly fucked in a long time.’

‘You want me to step up, then?’ Matty’s breathing delicately down his nose, but his lips stay parted even after he’s spoken, pink and inviting. His eyes track my own lips as I reply. It feels like if I touched him now, I’d get an electric shock of some kind, though I know I wouldn’t really, and it’s just the pheromones talking. That and I can feel the desire radiating off him.

‘Can I be honest?’

‘Yeah. Completely.’

‘I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.’ It comes out like an exhortation, and I’m momentarily embarrassed by my own naked want, but it lasts only half a second before he dips his head to kiss me. His lips are just as soft and supple as they looked, and just as I feel the tantalising warmth of his tongue against mine, I’m pulled against him more tightly as his hands slide around my waist. I can’t control the small sound I let out, a sigh of pleasure into his mouth as heat pools in my crotch.

‘Can I take this off?’ Matty asks, his fingers lifting the hem of my shirt incrementally. I don’t bother replying, instead yanking it off over my head myself. His expression slackens in pleasure as his gaze drops to my chest, but he unexpectedly grasps my hips and turns me abruptly round, cupping my breasts from behind as he kisses the skin near my hairline, muttering in my ear. ‘This way.’

His hands drop to my hips as he guides me forward, and I giggle helplessly, letting him. I like the way he plays this game. It’s already a thousand times more entertaining than anything Will has ever done to me, and my jeans are still on. I can feel him growing hard against my arse as we walk in an ungainly fashion, and I stumble slightly as he sticks his foot between my legs to kick his bedroom door open. He laughs into my hair, catching me deftly, his arms wrapped around my torso.

I climb onto the bed, balancing on my knees. Watching him retrieve a condom from a drawer is strangely erotic, as I admire his elegantly dishevelled hair and slender body in anticipation. When he leans in to kiss me deeply, I fumble blindly for the foil packet in his hand, and his face lights up with surprise as I take it from him. I hold it between my teeth as I unbutton his fly, feeling for his erection.

‘Well,’ I mutter under my breath, circling his cock with my fingers. ‘You’re certainly bigger than him.’

Matty groans into my mouth as I slide my hand down, feeling him grow harder second by second. ‘You’re unreal, oh my god…’

‘I assure you, I’m very real.’ I settle backwards, sitting on my heels. He discards his shirt and jeans, and when he’s ready, I lick the moisture from the tip before ripping the foil open and rolling the condom on. ‘Give me your best.’

He pushes a hand down the front of my jeans, his fingers slipping between my labia and spreading the wetness. Caught off-guard by the pleasure, I clutch at his shoulder and gasp abruptly against him, whilst he smirks in satisfaction; it would appear cocky on most people, but he wears the expression so well that it comes across like pure confidence. Impatient to make things easier, I tug my own remaining clothes off, and Matty tips me backwards, wrapping my legs around his torso as his cock pushes lightly against my clit, holding back still. My hips rise to meet his helplessly as I pant into his neck; he’s busy sucking at the spot above my collarbone, and his hands slip under my back, following the curve of my spine up towards him.

‘What are you waiting for?’ I ask, flustered and quivering.

‘For you to beg me.’

 _Oh god,_ I want to cry out, though it seems too desperate - _I need you to, I need you inside me, I need all of you_ \- and to ask this of a relative stranger? It’s almost absurd, or it would be if his tongue wasn’t tracing my nipple, the sweat from the back of my neck already touching his sheets, my ankles crossed over his back, his body so warm and so close. ‘Fine,’ I moan, ‘ _please_ , fuck, please…’

Matty lifts his head, his hair falling into his face in a dark halo. ‘Anything for you, love,’ he says, and I know it’s a casual term of endearment, but in his voice it’s so hot. Steadying himself with one hand, the other probes my cunt and eases his way in.

It’s better, of course it’s better, because of all this leading up to it, but also because he feels so fucking good, he feels so much better - my clit, the nerves of pleasure that run around it, the way I feel something inside me expand. And in the next instant everything that makes it transcendent is whisked away, as his hips roll back and forward again, and I squeeze my calves against his sides, willing him deeper. It’s become instinctive now, like scratching an itch, but in the most gloriously primal way.

He manages to climb further onto the bed, nudging my leg up as his knees balance on the mattress, and at this angle it feels even sweeter. In the heat of fucking, he still steals kisses, using them to punctuate his rhythms. His face shows his building pleasure, the dark brows furrowing and the elegant nose wrinkling - trying to hold back, I think.

‘Go on,’ I encourage him, panting a little.

‘I don’t want to - you haven’t -’

‘I will.’

Matty presses his tongue against mine fervently, and I think distractedly of the strength behind it, anticipating how it will feel between my legs. His hips slam into mine, hard, and he holds himself there as he comes, breathing heavily against my neck. It feels like it might be odd to look him in the eye in that moment, but I don’t much care, and cup his cheek with my hand. His own eyes are glazed over and don’t focus on me fully until he withdraws. He pulls the condom off in one fluid movement and slides his hands up the backs of my thighs, presses his lips there on either side.

‘Oh, jesus,’ I mutter under my breath as his mouth parts over my labia. Reeling from the pleasure of being fucked, he brings me back to the precipice of orgasm, tonguing my clit, his shoulders visibly flexing with effort. I clench my fists in his hair, taking care not to pull it, but delighting in the feel of it, and throw my head back as I cry out and come. Matty’s fingers grip at my thighs as he rides out my convulsions, lifting his head as I finally rest, my breath coming in gradually slowing gasps. 

He rests his chin on my stomach, smiling knowingly as I push the curls back from his forehead, my muscles relaxing in warmth. We both know it’s exceeded our recent experiences. ‘Good use of your Saturday?’

‘You know it’s the best.’


End file.
